


Rub Me The Right Way

by Persephoneshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs a massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rub Me The Right Way

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the title. I couldn't help myself.

“Welcome to Paradiso day spa, how can I help you today?”

Dean just about turned around and left right there. There was literally nothing in the softly-lit lobby that didn’t remind him of how stupid this was. From the water cascading serenely down a large black stone in the corner, to the shelves of products and candles arranged just so, to the soothing music, to the smell like he’d walked into one giant lotion bottle. Among the sea of sage green walls and river rocks in his worn jeans and busted up leather jacket he felt like stain on a nice suit.

“Sir?” The kid behind the counter couldn’t even be old enough to drink, maybe even vote, and he looked at Dean with wide, expectant eyes. “How can I help you today?”

“Huh?” Dean grunted back. “Oh, uh…yeah, I…well my sister-in-law, she gave me this…this gift certificate at Christmas,” Dean explained, avoiding the kid’s confused stare and fishing the crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “It was a joke, I think but…” Dean ran his hand through his hair nervously. The gesture only served to aggravate the pain in his neck that had driven him here. “Son of a…” Dean exclaimed then sighed. “I think I need a massage.”

“Oh, of course,” said the kid, whose nametag stated in elegant calligraphy that he was called 'Samandriel.' Weird, but…ok. “Let me see what we have available,” Samandriel chirped, turned to his monitor and began clicking eagerly.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered. The stupid gift certificate from Jess had been sitting smugly in his wallet for months now. Dean was willing to bet it had just been waiting for a day like today to remind himself of its existence. A day when he’d been waist deep in the innards of a 2004 Taurus when his neck had decided to start pinching, then spasming, then fucking screaming in pain every time he moved wrong.

“ _Just stow your chauvinist crap and go to the spa, Dean_ ,” Sam had ordered over the phone as Dean had winced and tried to move in a way that didn’t further anger his muscles. “ _It’s already paid for so no excuses_.” Dean had agreed. Which was a testament to how bad the pain was. His reluctance was not a manly man thing, thank you very much brother-with-longer-hair-than-most-chicks. It was much more ‘I’m a mechanic who doesn’t really belong in swanky ass day spas and by the way I really don’t like strangers touching me’ thing.

“Do you have a preference for a male or female therapist?”

Dean’s head jerked up at Samandriel’s question and he hissed in pain as his neck protested violently. “Uh…”

Samandriel smiled, apparently taking a little pity on Dean. “If you’d prefer a female, Hael is available tomorrow at ten or Anna at two,” he offered patiently.

“Oh, uh…I was kind of hoping for something today,” Dean explained with a grimace. He did not even want to think about how bad he would feel in the morning it he didn’t do something today.

“Oh, ok…well, if you don’t mind a male therapist, Raphael is available in two hours and…” Dean was sighing in frustration when a commotion erupted behind what Dean assumed was the door leading to the rest of the spa.

“YOU ASSHOLE! You don’t know anything about me, you creep!” a woman was yelling, as she burst from the door, yanking a sweater over her head. A harried looking man with unruly black hair and was following after her, though he looked more confused and disappointed than worried.

“Ma’am…” Samandriel jumped up. “I’m sure that there’s been a misunderstanding…” 

“Get out of my face!” the woman shrieked and Samandriel collapsed back into his seat. “Assholes!” she yelped one more time as she pushed past Dean and out of the door.

“Dude, what did you do to her?” Dean asked in amazement turning to look at the other man again.

The other insanely beautiful man. Dean gulped, trying to force his mind into more coherent thoughts than: stubble; jaw; mouth, eyes, and holy fucking EYES.

“I told her that it wasn’t her fault her father left her family, he probably just hated his job,” the man explained plainly, as if it wasn’t maybe the weirdest thing he could say. Well, maybe it could be weirder but Dean was a bit distracted by the fact that his voice was far lower and rougher than he would have expected.

“Client information shared on questionnaires or with other therapists is confidential, Castiel,” Samandriel reprimanded from the corner of his mouth. “Naomi has discussed this with you…”

“Yes, of course,” the guy – Castiel (what the hell was with the names at this place?) – agreed with a sigh. “I apologize, please deduct the loss from my check accordingly, if needed.”

Samandriel nodded stiffly, glancing back and forth between Dean and Castiel. Dean wasn’t sure if he was worried that Dean would get freaked out and leave because of the blow up or because the hot spa guy was staring at him with such intensity it made Dean wonder if he had something stuck to his face.

“As I was saying, sir,” Samandriel continued, clearing his throat, “Raphael is available at three today and Batholemew at four, and well, uh…Castiel here seems to be available now, if you are in a real hurry…”

Castiel turned and squinted at Samandriel, a combination of annoyance and confusion.

Dean weighed the options. He could endure the pain and wait a few hours, or a day, and hope he didn’t get a therapist quite so weird or attractive (both things which made him wary in different ways of letting the guy rub his hands all over him) or he could nut up and get this over with.

“I’m fine with, uh, Cas here, if he’s okay, with it,” Dean answered trying his best to sound gruff and nonchalant and not in any way freaked out.

“Excellent,” Samandriel smiled. “Castiel will show you back to the treatment room and get you set up. He can give you the consent form and such back there, can’t you Castiel?”

Castiel cast Samandriel an annoyed glance but nodded. “Please follow me,” he told Dean.

Dean followed, trying to remain calm and focused on his neck and not the guy in front of him or any specific part thereof. He was wearing light blue linen pants and a darker blue linen shirt that made him look like a hippie, but they did great things for his eyes, and his ass…

“Here we are,” Castiel said and Dean only tripped a little bit. Castiel opened the door into a room swathed in warm candlelight, and smelling faintly of…licorice? “It’s anise, it’s supposed to have a calming effect,” Castiel explained, apparently having seen Dean sniffing.

“Oh…that’s interesting,” Dean muttered. Despite what Sammy said, Licorice was the only movie candy that mattered.

Castiel had already retrieved a clipboard from a table in the corner. The massage table took up most of the room, though there was also a strange chair-ish thing in the corner and a stool on rollers tucked by the wall.

“Please fill this out as well as you can,” Castiel told him, handing him the clip board. “Would you like some tea or cucumber water? I can get some for you while I step out. When I do, please undress to your comfort level and…”

“Excuse me?” Dean cut him off.

Castiel tilted his head curiously. “Some people prefer to be completely unclothed, others are more comfortable in their underwear…” Castiel explained as if it was completely obvious.

“Dude, no…My comfort level is pretty much this, I can maybe loose the jacket,” Dean argued back.

To his surprise, Castiel only frowned for a second before some sort of realization spread over his face. “This your first time getting a massage?” It was much more a statement than a question.

“Is it that obvious?” Dean grimaced back.

“I can assure you that the experience will be much more relaxing with fewer clothes,” Castiel told him. “Especially if I am to use massage oil, clothes certainly get in the way.”

“Oil?” Dean gaped, swallowing hard and hoping is he maybe blinked hard enough he could wake up. And stop blushing like an idiot.

“Yes, you are allowed to choose which scent you prefer…most men go with tangerine or sandalwood but I like begamont…” Castiel explained, looking bewildered but not really angry.

“No, no…no oil, no scent I just…” Dean sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. Which of course aggravated his damn neck. “Look, I got this gift certificate and I was never gonna use it but I tweaked my neck or something this morning and I just want to not be in pain.”

Castiel looked over him, giving Dean the weird idea that he was being x-rayed or something. “I think I understand. You’re nervous, that’s normal. I can…accommodate. We can use the chair, though it won’t be as effective as the table.”

“Great,” Dean smiled. “I’m Dean by the way, figure since you’ll be…uh…” Dean gestured awkwardly and gave up. “Figured you should know my name.”

“I would have read it off the form once you filled it out,” Castiel replied flatly.

Dean laughed softly. “Yeah well, I’m not a formal guy so…” He waited for Castiel to smile at the pun. It didn’t happen – just more staring. “Never mind.” Dean shook his head in bemusement which made his asshole neck spasm in a new burst of pain. “Son of a bitch!”

“I think we can wait on the form. You appear to be in quite a lot of pain,” Castiel offered, taking the clipboard back from Dean and setting it aside. “Go ahead and take a place in the chair, your face should be in the cradle there.”

Dean obeyed, shucking his jacket and over-shirt, because he was not going to be a giant baby about the ‘level of comfort’ thing…He was wearing an old tee under the flannel, but it was clean. Dean did not feel relaxed at all however when he arranged himself in the massage chair and couldn’t see where Castiel was. The feel of soft fingers on his shoulder made him start.

“Can you give me some idea of where the pain is coming from?” Castiel asked, his voice soft and soothing.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Um, the right side…all the way up from my shoulder.”

Castiel’s hand moved gently up to the area Dean had indicated. There was no pressure yet; it was more like an examination. “Right about here?”

“Yeah, exactly. It just went off this morning… ** _Oh my god._** ” It was a moan. There was no other way to describe the sound that Dean let out when Castiel’s fingers pressed expertly into his pained muscles. He felt his whole body slacken, like this due had cut a chord holding all the tension in him.

“You have some very serious adhesions here, Dean, and…” Castiel’s fingers rubbed a bit up Dean’s neck… “And it feels like you pulled something pretty badly out of alignment…”

“Uh, yeah…” Dean muttered. His main concern right now was not starting to drool because, holy crap. Castiel’s hands – which were strong and soft and really nice, and not just because they were doing things to Dean’s burnt out muscles he hadn’t even known were possible – continued to knead his shoulder. It felt like he was digging under Dean’s skin, but not in a gross way, and finding every knot of tension and worry and slowly pulling them apart. “I was so wrong about massages,” Dean sighed aloud before he could stop himself. Screw it, this felt too nice to hold back about it. “This is awesome.”

Castiel gave a small chuckle and Dean found himself smiling. “Thank you. Though with this level of tension, I expect any attention would feel…awesome.”

“I dunno man, feels to me like you’ve got magic fingers,” Dean replied before realizing the words had left his mouth. “I really just said that, didn’t I?”

“It’s alright, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Castiel replied tolerantly, Dean found himself smiling again, and then blushing, and then completely ignoring the whole “don’t get more tense thing” because the guy with the magic fingers had just said flirting was okay, maybe? Or not? Or had been flirting back…

Castiel’s fingers found another deep knot of tension and dug in and all coherent thought flew from Dean’s mind once more. “Jesus fucking Christ…” Dean groaned, which was probably way more inappropriate than anything else he’d said.

“Not Christ, Castiel,” the masseuse rumbled behind him, with only the faintest hint of humor in his deep voice. Dean really wanted to turn and see if there was a smile creeping across his face, but that would me the massaging would stop which was completely out of the question.

“So. What’s with is with the uh…the names?” Dean tried to ask, though his voice came out a bit slurred.

“You noticed that?” Castiel answered, amusement warming his voice. “It’s part of the spa’s branding, we’re asked to take the names of angels. The idea is to make the experience feel more like…”

“Heaven?” Dean sighed. Yes, freaking sighed, because what Castiel’s hands were doing was heaven, goddamnit.

“Yes. It also protects the therapists in some ways from overinvolved clients; but mostly it’s just marketing. Hael is the angel of Kindness, Samandriel is an angel or fertility.”

“Fertility? Seriously? The kid looks like he’s twelve…”

Castiel gave a small laugh, and Dean decided he really really liked that sound.

“What’s his real name?”

“Alfie.”

Dean chuckled a bit, relaxing even more into the chair. He really didn’t even care if talking this much wasn’t normal. “Uhh…what’s yours? Real name, I mean.”

“Jimmy, well, James. But I like Castiel better actually. I go by in most circles. Well, I don’t really move in circles outside of work, really but if I did I would prefer to continue to be called Castiel...” he explained, without any hint or irony or sarcasm. Which was weird, but Dean had decided about five minutes ago that with those eyes and those hands, this guy was allowed to be as weird as he liked.

“Fair enough. What’s Castiel the angel of anyway?” Dean asked, trying to turn his head and give Castiel a smile. This effort was thwarted by Castiel pushing his fingers deep into the tendons at the base of Dean’s skull and nearly making him swoon with how good it felt.

“Solitude. And Thursday,” Castiel answered simply.

“Thursday?” Dean again tried to turn and look at Castiel. Again he was pushed back gently into position.

“Yes. I picked the name on a Thursday. And this will be easier if you don’t squirm as much,” Castiel reprimanded.

“Sorry, I, uh…” Dean groped for words. “I keep wanting to look at you…” Wrong words, Dean. _Wrong words_.

“Eye contact is not usually a factor for most clients,” Castiel replied, his hands moving to Dean’s left shoulder now and finding new places to minister to.

“Glad to be the exceptions then…oh god…that…” Dean didn’t even blush at the exclamation, whatever Castiel was doing it felt too good to even care that he was making a complete fool of himself. “Holy crap, man…”

“I’m glad the experience is satisfactory for you,” Castiel answered.

“Satisfactory? Cas, five more minutes and I’ll probably be asking you to marry me,” Dean moaned, almost delirious but not quite delirious enough to not want to punch himself in the face for that little confession.

“That would certainly be a first, I’d probably have to ask the management for a dispensation,” Cas replied (when did he become Cas, by the way?). “And I’d also need to know your last name.”

“Huh?” Dean’s brain had simply stopped functioning.

“You didn’t even finish the first line of the form.”

“Oh…” This time when Dean moved automatically to turn around, Cas let him. It sort of amazed Dean that the guy was more beautiful than the image Dean had formed in his head before. He’s have to study those eyes for a while to really get them down.

“It’s uh…Winchester,” Dean stammered.

Cas gave him a thoughtful crooked smile. “Would you mind writing that down now? And your number?” he asked as he handed Dean the clip board.

“For the spa’s records?” Dean asked back, hesitant, taking the clip board and pen.

“No, mine.” Dean started like he’d been shocked and fumbled with the clipboard and pen. “If that’s alright.”

“More than alright,” Dean answered before he could think about it.

Cas caught his eyes and smiled. “Good.”

“Yeah, uh…good,” Dean agreed licking his lips, a bit dazed and trying not to stare at Castiel’s mouth. He was failing.

“Would you like to try it out on the table?”

“Huh?” Dean felt the tips of his ears turning red.

“The rest of the massage, Dean,” Cas explained calmly.

“Oh, uh…maybe…sure?” Dean answered unsteadily. Cas gestured to the table and Dean climbed out of the chair and onto the table with the exact opposite of grace.

“I am a professional, Dean, don’t worry,” Cas reassured him, his hand touching down gently on Dean’s lower back.

“I’m sure you are,” Dean smirked, settling his face into the cradle at the end of the table. Then suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and breath against his ear.

“Nothing untoward will be happening, I assure you.” Cas whispered. And it sound extremely untoward. “But, since you’ll be proposing in three minutes, I guess we’ll have to see,” he added, his voice even huskier than before.

“Hell yeah we will,” Dean grinned as Castiel’s perfect hands pushed into his muscles. Hell yeah they would. He was also going to have to send Jess the biggest thank you in the world. But he’d think about that…after. Way after.

He’d also have to think very seriously about that “undressing to his comfort level.”

“So, Tahiti or Hawaii for the honeymoon?” Dean asked happily.


End file.
